


A Mighty Fine Coincidence

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, M/M, Mutual Pining, Use Your Words, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: There's something about Jesse McCree that makes Gabe want to buy all the flowers and chocolates, to make some grand sweeping gesture, to take the opportunity to let Jesse know how much he's liked, appreciated, wanted--and that's the problem, isn't it?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts).



> I am in the middle of writing something longer, I swear, but I had to take a little break to celebrate Valentine's Day with these two.
> 
> For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic), and for all of you. <3

This would be easier if Gabe and Jesse talked.

It's not that they don't talk to each other; the Blackwatch missions they go on together would be impossible if they didn't. It's what happens after the missions, when Jesse kisses Gabe and Gabe doesn't stop him, when Jesse follows him back to his quarters and they end up with Gabe on his knees and Jesse with his head thrown back, with Jesse on all fours and Gabe with a hand fisted into his hair, with Gabe biting back Jesse's name--that's what they don't talk about.

They talked about it once, briefly, sort of. The first time Jesse had kissed him, had raised a careful hand to Gabe's face and pressed his lips against Gabe's, Gabe had backed away and told him, seriously, "You know you don't have to do this, right?"

A shadow had crossed Jesse's face, and then his expression had morphed into some hardened combination of swagger and offense. "Of course I know," he'd said with a scoff. "Just how fucked up do you think Deadlock left me?"

It had been been years since Gabe had pulled him out of Deadlock, and the question hadn't quite felt fair. Gabe had managed not to splutter, had given Jesse a pointed look with one eyebrow raised.

Jesse had smirked back at him. "What's the matter, Reyes? Don't you trust me?" Then he'd kissed Gabe again, less soft the second time.

Gabe had trusted him, does trust him, keeps letting him make this happen. The problem is that without knowing how serious Jesse is about this, Gabe doesn't know how serious he ought to be either. He knows how serious he _wants_ to be, and that's the real problem: he _likes_ Jesse McCree, is head over heels in like with Jesse McCree, has been for longer than he'll ever admit. He wants everything, wants to _give_ Jesse everything, but Jesse has set all the terms so far, and Gabe also wants to let him continue to do so, for everyone's comfort. He's very aware of the potential power imbalance there, doesn't want to give Jesse anything that might be construed as an order--he never would, but doesn't want to even toe that line. 

And the terms that Jesse has set are...vague. They kiss, but only as something approximating foreplay. They always go back to Gabe's quarters, but Jesse never stays when they're done. (He'd fallen asleep in Gabe's room once, had woken partway through the night and scurried out, embarrassed and apologetic.)

The easy solution, then, is to ask: _what are we_. Jesse could answer him, and then Gabe would know. But Gabe's not sure he wants an answer; the answer could be _we're friends who fuck sometimes_ and that would have to be fine. So instead, he doesn't ask, because while he wants to know, he doesn't want to know.

Which brings him back to his real problem, which is Valentine's Day. 

Gabe is not usually one for sappy, made-up holidays, and Valentine's Day has always felt like the sappiest, most made-up one to him. He's not sure he's ever _enjoyed_ a Valentine's Day before, only gone through perfunctory motions of it to make whoever he was seeing happy. But there's something about Jesse McCree that makes him want to buy all the flowers and chocolates, to make some grand sweeping gesture, to take the opportunity to let Jesse know how much he's liked, appreciated, wanted.

He'd avoided all this holiday bullshit at Christmas by scheduling himself out on a weeks-long op that left around Thanksgiving and wasn't finished until after the new year. He'd been safely away over the holidays, out of sight and theoretically out of mind, and all the agents he hadn't brought with him had been approved for holiday leave, which had greatly improved morale by the time he returned.

(Jesse had come to his quarters when he'd gotten back that time, and it was probably just the time and distance that had made the whole thing seem more intense than usual. The ache Jesse sparks in Gabe's chest hadn't gotten any better while he'd been away.)

Maybe he's overthinking this Valentine's thing. _Probably_ he's overthinking it. Jesse's currently out on a two-week op in France that had turned into three--nothing wrong, just slow going. As always, he wants his agents back safe and sound as quickly as possible, but if the universe saw fit to have it take a couple extra days, this whole dilemma could be avoided by having him and Jesse be in completely separate countries for the entirety of February 14th. People don't celebrate Valentine's Day after the fact, so the crisis would be averted. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

♥♥♥

Jesse's mission hasn't returned by the 14th. Gabe spends Valentine's Day attempting to keep himself occupied. He's got meetings with the Strike Commander, a sparring session with Reinhardt that he'd been putting off but somehow finally managed to make time in his schedule for, and Blackwatch agent training that he'd gotten roped into overseeing at the practice range. By the time he stops to breathe, it's already the evening, and it seems like he's home free. He retreats to the desk in his quarters to finish up some of the paperwork that had resulted from the meetings with Morrison, congratulating himself and the universe on a job well done.

An hour later, there's a tentative knock at the door of his quarters. When he opens it, there stands Jesse. He looks as uncertain as his knock had sounded, holding his hat in his hands in front of him and shifting from foot to foot, a little awkwardly.

 _Man,_ Gabe thinks, _fuck you, universe._

He beckons Jesse in and stacks the papers he's working on neatly before getting up and starting to cross the room to him. Jesse steps inside, lets the door close behind him, and waits.

"Didn't expect you back so soon," Gabe says. They'd probably followed procedure and pinged his comm as soon as they'd gotten back to base, to let him know that they were back; he'd gotten so wrapped up in the paperwork that if they had, he hadn't noticed.

"Glad I could surprise you," Jesse says, smiling crookedly. He kicks off his boots, like always, sets his hat down, like always, and pushes Gabe up against the wall to kiss him, just like always. 

Gabe goes willingly. If this is what he gets, then this is what he gets.

Later, when they're done, Gabe falls back onto the bed and waits for Jesse to leave, like always. Jesse cleans up first, and then Gabe cleans himself up, pulling on his boxers and undershirt and watching out of the corner of his eye as Jesse gets dressed: shirt, pants, boots--and then, a pause.

"Everything alright?" Gabe asks.

Jesse shifts, making a determined face, and then pulls something out from under his hat and thrusts the thing towards Gabe.

"These are for you," he says. Gabe walks over, takes the proffered thing and examines it. It's a small and very fancy box of chocolates. "It ain't--it's not anything special, I just, I thought--we were in France, and it was Valentine's Day, and maybe I'm a fool, but--"

Gabe kisses him. It's not the first time, but it feels a little like the first time.

"I didn't get you anything," Gabe admits when he pulls away.

Jesse's looking at him strangely, his mouth smiling and his eyes a little sad. "Yeah, you did." He puts his hat on and turns to go.

"You can stay, if you want," Gabe says, the words spilling out before he has time to think about them.

Jesse stops, turns back to Gabe. "Really?"

"If you want."

"What do _you_ want?" Jesse asks, stepping closer.

Gabe doesn't--he can't--he doesn't get to have--

"Tell me," Jesse says firmly.

And finally, Gabe admits: "You. I want you."

"Well, ain't that a mighty fine coincidence," Jesse says, smiling for real this time. "Because I want you too."

He closes the distance between them, puts a hand on either side of Gabe's face, and kisses him. It's soft and almost unbearably sweet, and Gabe gets the feeling that he's been holding onto some of this for a while. Gabe lets his hands rest on Jesse's chest, and he can't keep the breathless amazement from his face when Jesse pulls away.

"Not sure I've ever seen you look so happy," Jesse teases. "It's a Valentine's Day miracle."

"This makes me happy," Gabe says. He kisses Jesse, because he can now. " _You_ make me happy."

Jesse's face goes soft and serious. "Somebody ought to. You make me happy too."

"Good. You deserve it."

Gabe hadn't realized it was possible, but Jesse's expression goes even softer. He kicks off his boots, undresses again, and lets Gabe lead him back to bed.

♥♥♥

"You mean to tell me--" Jesse begins, his head pillowed on Gabe's bicep and Gabe's fingers threaded through his hair. Gabe moves his fingers against Jesse's scalp, and Jesse makes a contented noise and has to begin again. "You mean to tell me that we could've been doing this for _months_? And we _weren't_?!"

Gabe laughs. "Guess we'll have to make up for lost time, then," he says, and Jesse laughs too, rolls up on top of him and kisses him again.

♥♥♥

They celebrate Valentine's Day after the fact, at a little diner off the base whose burgers Jesse swears by. They split a piece of pie for dessert and Jesse holds his hand, and it's the best Valentine's Day that Gabe's ever had.


End file.
